The Sales Assistant

The shop was lit with the warm glow of patent leather shoes. Stilettos the colour of fresh bruises, tip to heel with black knee-high boots and mossy court shoes. The rich scent of polish washed across my skin and I almost forgot, for a moment, that I needed to be back at the office by 1:15.

Over by the counter, the sales assistant chatted to some fashion victim with less dress sense than money, oblivious to my presence. With no shoes or credit card anywhere in sight it was obviously a social chat and I paced as the door behind me slowly closed out the grey street. I needed to get back to the office. This was a shop, not a café, didn't they realise that?

I coughed loudly, finally prompting the two women to say their goodbyes and as the fashion victim left, the assistant touched her on the arm, a simple enough act of affection, but there was a longing in the assistant's eyes that unsettled me and which the other woman plainly ignored. The bell rang and the assistant and I were alone.

The assistant's smile was warm enough as she came out from behind her counter to help me. She wore a simple black dress, more Lycra than length, but somehow its simplicity was in keeping with the sophistication of the shop. Her arm moved to touch me in the same way it had touched the other woman, forcing me to retreat, stumbling over one of the low chairs that littered the centre of the shop.

'I'd like to see the manager please.' I told her. Suddenly I didn't want to be served by this girl. I needed someone more... more... more attuned to my needs. I didn't care that a quick glance at my watch told me that in thirty five minutes I had to be gone.

'I'm sorry.' The assistant said in a soft northern brogue. 'It is only me today. Is there a problem?' Her smile was as simple as her dress, only longer, but still, she made me tense, standing so close, that's what I thought, too close.

'I need some work shoes.' I said, stepping backwards again. 'For work.'

'Did you see anything in particular?'

'No. I need square toed, flat heeled.'

'Black?'

'Or navy. In a six.'

She left to retrieve the appropriate shoes and in her absence I sat, trying to relax. She appeared again, too soon, and as she knelt before me, her dress rode up her legs to create a dark shadow between her thighs. The tension ground into my stomach.

I shifted to a more comfortable position on the seat, tugging the hem of my dress down towards my knees, but my skirt lacked any Lycra and refused to move, pinching at my waist.

She removed my old work shoes and her skin was warm against mine as she cradled my ankle. But then she didn't even get the shoes out of the box.

'I think we'll need the next size up.' She said.

'Those will be fine' I told her. 'I'm always a six.'

'They're too small. They'll hurt your feet.' She replied, disappearing again to the back of the shop.

She returned holding a dark green pair with a two inch heel and rounded toe.

'I think they'll look nice on you.' She said when I pointed out that they weren't what I asked for. She slipped one of the shoes on and then adjusted the strap, placing the warmth of her hands above my ankle now.

My watch told me I had only twenty five minutes and it would take five of those minutes to walk back.

'You're very tense.' Her words were light, but concerned.

'I'm in a hurry.'

'Have you ever had reflexology?' She asked, easing a thumb into the outside muscles of my foot, her other hand sliding up my thigh to support my leg as she did so.

'I'm not sure this is entirely appropriate.' I began. 'I need to get back to work.'

'Each part of the foot is connected to a different part of the body,' she said. 'The outside of the foot to the outside of the body and the inside to the centreline.'

I needed to check my watch, time was clicking on, but I didn't. I needed to tell her to hurry, but I didn't. I was uncomfortable in this chair, I needed to take my foot away from her and get comfortable, but I didn't... I watched her intensely as her thumb wove across the bridge of my foot and began to rub on the inside edge.

There was a crash of the bell above the door and a man barged in, dragging the blare of the street with him. Without thinking I snatched my foot away. The assistant rose demurely and swept over to him as I jerked to a more upright position in the chair and dragged at the hem of my skirt.

I watched them as they talked, or rather I watched her. She nodded often, leaning towards him and smiling, just as she had done with me, and I felt a pang of loss.

When he finally left, she locked the door and lowered the blinds.

'What are you doing?' I asked.

'Interruptions won't help you relax.' She replied, kneeling before me once again. She removed the shoe and her thumb worked across the sole, the pressure easily passing into my flesh.

'I need to be back at work.'

'You can leave whenever you want.' She said, with a smile. 'Or you can relax. Five minutes out of your day won't hurt, will it?'

Easy for you to say, I thought and I think it was easy for her, she really did have no problem with this, with being close to another woman, her body was loose and free and I was not a little jealous.

'Who was that woman?' I asked, remembering the fashion victim who'd ignored her.

She looked at me quizzically, her hands flowing into a position that allowed the massage to wash to and fro up my calf.

'When I first came in there was a woman, you touched her on the arm.'

'Did I?' She is an ex-girlfriend, that's all. I've just moved down here and she came to say hello.' She gave me that smile again. 'All quite innocent.'

'Oh.' I said, my voice drifting off as I closed my eyes and tried to give myself up to the stream of tension pouring out of me through her fingers. The massage reached my knee and, without any discernable break, she started again on my other foot. My body was limp, as if the only thing that had been keeping me upright was the tight interlock of my muscles that this girl was eroding.

Oh why, I thought, couldn't any of my boyfriends have done this for me? I could barely summon the energy to breath as my calf muscles crumpled under the gentle strength of her hand. Her hands reached the top of my calf and, as smoothly as she had changed over legs, she gently eased my knees apart.

There was something so natural about the action that it didn't even register at first. I ought to be heading back to work, I thought even as I slid down the chair, my skirt riding up as I did so. I began to think of what I needed to do that afternoon, relaxing might be a good idea, but I didn't need to switch off completely. Then I felt a kiss.

It was just above my knee and I wasn't even sure it was a kiss at first. It felt like one, like her lips against my flesh, but I couldn't be sure, the touch was so faint. Then I felt it again, a definite kiss, above the hemline of my skirt, or at least what used to be the hemline before she'd opened my legs.

Her breath caressed my thighs, punctuated by feather-light kisses, and I tried to imagine that it was a man doing this, that her smooth face was just clean-shaven, that her gentleness was just skill, that the slow and easy progress of her kisses was just a strong discipline not to rush to a climax. But it was so long since I'd shared any intimacy that I struggled to keep the fiction alive.

As her lips pressed against me again, her cheek brushed the fabric of my knickers. She eased them down and before I could protest against her lips violating my most intimate skin, she secured the soles of my feet into the palms of her hands and began to knead my tired muscles, deep long kneading, stretching my knees out and my thighs apart, opening up my vagina to her.

Did this shop have a back door? I had seen her lock the front door, but what about the back? Could someone unwittingly surprise us? I did not want to be found in this position by anyone, not even a stranger. The assistant didn't seem to care at all. The smile had slipped from her face now, replaced by an intense longing.

My I gasped and tried to tell her no and it came out as a whisper. The shivers of pleasure that her hands sent up the inside of my legs were like a thousand tiny hands stretching up through my legs to where her eyes bored into me. Still massaging my feet, she stretched forward, her whole weight pushing my thighs apart to stretch toward me. Barely able to reach, her tongue flicked across my labia.

The shadows of passers by flickered through the gaps in the blind. There was a world out there oblivious to my pleasure and a locked door between us to ensure it stayed that way.

'No.' I said again, but every fibre in my pussy strained to reach the softness of her tongue, which gave the merest flutter across my flesh. The chair dug into my thighs and neck, leaving my back unsupported, but my discomfort failed against the flick of this girl's tongue between my legs.

Without warning, she released my feet and wrapped her arms around my thighs, pulling me without ceremony further down the chair, burying her head into my flesh. It felt as if she were trying to eat me as she took great toothless bites, yet in all that urgency she still managed to be gentle, her passion irresistible, rather than brutal.

I must have made a strange sight, lying there in the chair, my top half all grey presentability and my lower half completely naked, the only thing covering my modesty was this woman's mouth.

A woman's mouth. The thought made me tense at exactly the moment she strummed my clitoris and something inside my belly twisted. Christ I thought, she's going to make me cum, a woman is going to make me cum.

As if she had felt the twist, she sucked harder on my clitoris. I tried to push her head away, but it was no good, I just made her suck harder to keep me within her mouth. My world contracted to a single point and I let out a cry that was almost despair. I cried out not caring about the public street only a few metres away. Not caring that it was a woman doing this to me, not caring that the shop owner could have come in at that moment. I wouldn't have cared if it was my best friend, or even my mother, bring all the judgmental bastards of the world. I didn't care.

She kept licking, feeding the beautiful twisting within me, fighting against the grip of my legs around her head to suck on my clitoris. She didn't stop until I begged her to. Even then, she simply slowed and softened, letting me down gently, with the occasional jag of pleasure.

I don't know how long I lay there panting on the chair, with her head resting on my lap. There was an easiness between us, nothing expected, no pressure to move. Eventually though, I became chilly and the chair uncomfortable again. We both struggled to our feet.

She suggested I come back tomorrow, we needed to spend time getting me the right shoes. My feet were important, apparently.

I agreed with her non-committally and stepped out as quickly as I could into the narrow grey street, leaving the warm glow of leather behind. Watching my old work shoes as they clacked along the pavement, I was unable to look up into the faces of anyone else on the street and it was suddenly clear to me that I wouldn't be back. All I needed was a pair of work shoes. That was all.

Size six.